Ways of the Hunter
by HopelessRomantic45
Summary: Alternate Pilot. Sam tries to fight getting pulled back into the life of a hunter, but no one can truly change who they are.
1. Chapter 1

"Dean, I told you, I've got to get back by Mon…"

"Monday," The older brother turned and pressed his lips together, trying to hide his frustration, "right the interview. Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?"

"Maybe, why not?" Though younger, the taller of the brothers took a step forward, swinging his hands as he talked.

"Does Jessica know the truth about you what you do? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

"No," he cut in quickly, "and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy," Dean's eyes were wide with surprise. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

"And who's that?" Sam took quick steps to follow his brother as he started to walk up the bridge.

"You're one of us!" Dean exclaimed.

"No, I'm not like you," Sam lengthened his stride and maneuvered to stand in front of his brother. "This is not going to be my life!"

"You have a responsibility…"

"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone and she isn't coming back."

Anger washed over Dean's face, and he used all of his strength to shove his brother up against one of the beams supporting the bridge. Sam felt his back slam into the metal bars and took a deep breath as he stared at his brother. They both knew he was right Dean just refused to give up the life he had always known. Dean re-gripped his hands around Sam's jacket.

"Don't talk about her like that," he finally muttered.

He forcefully let go of his hold and took a step back. His blood boiled as he met his brother's eyes again, fog from their warm breath mingling in the air. Thoughts of the night Sam left filtered through his mind. The fight had been ugly between Sam and their dad, and deep down, Dean had worried he would never see his brother again. Now here Sam was, wanting to keep his distance from the family yet again.

Before Dean could realize what his subconscious was thinking, his arm reared back and he punched Sam across the jaw. Sam stayed bent over, his hand coming to his face and working his jaw to check for injuries. He spit a wad of blood out, then stood quickly and returned the assault, his fist making contact with Dean's chin as the older brother tried to move out of the way.

They scuffled for a minute, hands and legs flying with expert precision, but no other blow was delivered after all the years they had trained against each other. Finally with a rough shove, Sam stepped back.

"What is your problem?" His chest heaved as he caught his breath.

"Why do you refuse to be part of this family?" Dean hollered into the night sky. "Huh? Can't you see we need you?"

"No, you don't! You've been perfectly fine without me the last three years, and you'll be fine finding Dad on your own."

"What about all those people getting attacked out there? You're just gonna let them die?"

"It was Dad who wanted to start hunting things, and we had no say in the matter. Now, I have a say, and I'm done!" Sam turned on his boot, walking away from his brother and the black family car sitting under one of the lamplights.

"Good luck on your interview," Dean taunted, but Sam kept going. "Hope your new Stanford family can put up with you, because I sure as hell won't anymore!"

As Sam reached the gravel road that led onto the bridge, metallic ringing floated above his head and a low, muffled grunt echoed after it as Dean leaned over, clenching his injured hand.

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After a two mile walk back into town, a taxi ride to the bus station, a cramped power-nap on the floor, and a few too many hours trying to get comfortable on the smallest bus seat ever, Sam arrived back at his apartment. It was early for Sunday on campus, and the over-achievers were executing their daily run while the walk-of-shame's quickly shuffled past with their heads down.

Sam took the stairs two at a time and quietly made his way into the room. He spied Jessica's sleeping form on the bed and smiled, all of his anger melting away as his heart swooned. He quickly unzipped his jacket and discarded his jeans before climbing into the bed and wrapping his arms around his girlfriend.

Jessica jumped as she woke up. Sam kissed the crook of her neck and she rolled over with a grin on her face.

"Home already?" Jessica asked after planting a kiss on his lips. "Did you find your dad?"

"He'll be fine," Sam answered curtly, leaning in to cover her mouth. Jessica avoided him by tilting her head back, her eyes crinkling in concern.

"Sam…"

"I got into it with Dean and left," Sam huffed. He released his hold on her hip to reach up and wipe some hair off her cheek.

"You just left your brother?" There was so much confusion in Jessica's eyes, and Sam silently cursed his brother for sneaking into his window and messing everything up.

"It's really complicated."

"You always say that, Sam. This is your _family_ we're talking about here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't have the fabulous upbringing that you did."

Jessica shifted out of her boyfriend's arms and sat up. Sam sighed loudly and flopped onto his back.

"We always get here, and you won't ever tell me about it. Sam, I love you, you know that I do. But I can't let this go."

When Sam couldn't come up with anything to answer, Jess pulled the covers off her legs and padded into the bathroom. The water pipes whirred to life as Jess turned the shower on. Sam continued to lie in bed, his mind churning.

Somewhere between being lost deep in thought and falling asleep, Sam startled at the knock on the door. He rolled his eyes, figuring Dean had followed him back. It wasn't like his brother to leave in the middle of a hunt, but he wouldn't put it past him. He swung the door opened and came face to face with his friend Brady.

"Brady! What are you doing up this early?"

Brady stood frozen in the hallway, his mouth hanging open. Sam shifted, getting ready to ask him what was wrong, but Brady smiled and clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Hey! You're back! Jess told us last night you were on a road-trip with your brother."

"Yeah, got back this morning," Sam opened the door further and let Brady into the apartment.

"How was it?"

"Oh same old, same old," Sam noticed that Brady seemed to be more nervous than usual. "Hey, are you good?"

"Yeah, yeah, still kinda drunk from last night I guess," Brady laughed and they moved into the next room to sit.

When Jessica got out of the shower, the three of them went for brunch at the local diner. After catching Sam up on the Saturday night events and parting ways, he and Jess returned to the apartment so Sam could get ready for his interview.

"Will you just tell me one thing?" Jess asked. They were both on the couch, Sam sitting on the end reading and Jessica laid out with her feet in his lap. "Are you sure your Dad is okay?"

"We were close, if Dean doesn't call soon I will check in to make sure." Sam kept his head ducked into his book. "But he spent a lot of time on his own, I trust he knows what he is doing."

"You mean hunting? I don't really get why you're so worried…"

"He does a lot of reckless things," Sam could feel his voice tensing along with his body.

"And you don't know where he is hunting? Or…"

"Jess!" Sam snapped his book shut.

"I'm sorry," Jess muttered.

"No, I'm sorry." Sam ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. "I will tell you things as you need to know them, and maybe one day I will fill you in on everything." He smiled at her even as she continued to watch him with wary eyes. "Come here."

Jess shifted herself over and curled her legs under her as Sam put his arm over her shoulders. He leaned in, playfully whispering in her ear and laying gentle kisses along her cheekbone.

"Don't think this conversation is over, Winchester." Jess laughed, trying to keep her anger afloat.

"I know it's not. But every fight needs a good make up." Sam nipped at her ear lobe. Jess turned her head and captured his lips.

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Later that night, after sitting down for dinner, Sam excused himself to the library to collect his thoughts for the interview tomorrow and make sure he had all of his stats up to date.

As he reached the corner of campus and the library came into view, Sam heard his phone begin to chirp. He paused by a few stone benches and pressed the green button to accept the call from his brother.

"Dean," Sam said coolly.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean laughed. "How ya doin?"

"It's Sam," Sam rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know, old habits die hard." He coughed harshly.

"Look, Dean, did you call for a reason? Did you get in touch with Dad?"

"What, I can't just call to talk after a hunt?"

"So you found Constance and you stopped her?"

"You could say that," Dean groaned as he spoke, and Sam felt himself straighten as an inkling made its way into his stomach.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked slowly.

"Sammy, look. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. For pulling you back in when you got such a good life at Stanford. I just figured you would want to see me again and maybe try to talk to Dad, but…"

"Dean, what's going on?"

"I checked in on you a couple times last year, just to make sure you were safe. Dad told me he did too. So know that we were…" Dean's words died out as he coughed again.

"Hey, seriously, Dean…"

"Sorry, that damn ghost…she wouldn't go down easy. But we were always looking out for you, even if you didn't want us to."

Sam felt his legs give out and thankfully the bench caught his weight.

"Dean, are you…"

"Look, go find Dad. He wanted you to be happy and keep making him proud, but he could use your help. Don't be a bitch."

Something sounding like a splash echoed through the speaker.

"Dean? DEAN!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad, I need you to answer. This isn't me just trying to catch up with your or say I'm sorry. You have to…" Sam stopped as saliva lodged in his throat. He gulped and coughed, but there it sat, and the simple misfortune brought tears to his eyes. "I can't do this, Dad. I can't…"

The phone beeped and then the line went dead.

Sam hurled his phone onto the bed. Anger spun through him like a tornado and Sam began to spin as well, trying to find another outlet for his emotions.

The walls to the motel room were a boring gray, and the TV sitting on the floor in the corner would have given him enough of a release, but common sense told him he really needed to get his deposit back. He turned and kicked at the full-sized bed, the mattress bouncing off the base a few inches and the blankets catching the gust of air. He kicked again and it dislodged itself at a skewed angle, hitting the small bedside table. After the third time, the mattress was lying on its side on the floor, exposing rusted springs that Sam wanted to launch himself onto.

His phone rang out, and it took Sam a minute to find it on the floor across the room. He grabbed at it and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Sam? Where are you? It's 3 am, why haven't you come home?"

"Jess…" Sadness hit Sam like a punch to the gut. "I-I-I'm in Jericho, again."

"You left?"

"I needed to…Dean called and…" Forming sentences was becoming more and more difficult.

"Sam, you're scaring me. What is going on?"

Sam opened his mouth just as he heard a beep signaling another call coming in. He checked the ID and realized the number was unfamiliar, but held onto the hope that it was his dad.

"Babe, I gotta call you back."

"No, wait…" Her voice cut off as Sam switched calls.

"Dad?"

"No….I….he….no, this is Officer Willis." The deep voice on the other end became clearer as he kept going. "We are at an old abandoned house and this is the last number called for the man we found."

"Yes…I mean, you found my brother?"

"We did. Can you…are you in town to answer some questions for us?"

Sam was silent for a while, weighing his options.

"Son, it would really help us out, if you know anything…"

Rolling his eyes at the officer party line, Sam cleared his throat.

"I can be there in a few hours."

After exchanging information and promising the officer he would have the phone on him if they needed to reach him sooner, Sam disconnected. He glanced at his phone, seeing another missed call from Jess and a couple texts asking what was going on. He slipped the phone into his sweatshirt pocket, then leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor.

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Sam clenched his hand inside his pocket, trying to stop the tremor that was working its way up his arm. He pushed open the glass door to the local police department, getting a few nods from officers as they walked past with papers in hand. A young receptionist stood behind the counter and gave him a broad smile as he approached.

"I really hope I can help you," She stated way too obviously.

"Officer Willis, please," Sam responded quietly, not meeting her eyes. She harrumphed and leaned down to pick up the corded phone. After they exchanged a few words, she hung up. "He will be out in a minute, you can wait over there."

With barely a nod, Sam turned in the direction she had pointed to a few padded chairs. Sitting near the large window, Sam watched the cars drive back and forth on the main road and ran his thumb along the new scar on his hand.

"_Shit!" Sam pressed his thumb tightly into the cut on his palm then held it up into the lamp glow to check for glass. Deciding it was fine, Sam reached into the shattered window frame and unlocked the car before climbing into the driver's seat. _

_He barely remembered how Dean had gotten them to the highway, but instinct and adrenaline drove him forward and soon he felt he was heading in the right direction. Sam grabbed his phone out of his pocket and re-dialed Dean's number, but it rang through to voicemail. _

_Sam flipped the phone closed, then re-opened it and started looking through the contacts. He saw the barrier to the bridge out of the corner of his eye and swerved back onto the road. As he hit dial, Sam pressed his foot down onto the gas harder. Four rings, and then another beep: "Dad, call me back. Something is going on. I need your help." _

"Sam?" The man who had to be Officer Willis peeked his head out from behind the counter. He was young, couldn't be much older than Dean, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. Sam stood and grasped his hand in greeting before being led back into one of the meeting rooms.

"I'm glad we were able to get ahold of you. This is not a great situation, and knowing more about what…you said brother?" Sam nodded. "What he was doing may help us."

"I don't know how much help I can be, officer. I've been at Stanford and haven't talked to my brother in years."

"But he called you last night, correct?"

"Yeah, I guess. He asked how I was, and I told him, and then we lost our connection."

"He didn't say what he was doing at the old Welch house?"

"No, he…" The door to the room opened, cutting Sam off.

"Willis, we need you for a minute."

Officer Willis nodded to Sam as the other policeman closed the door again. He got up quickly and followed.

"_This is Officer Dirk, I need to get a trace on a suspect in question." Sam was sitting in the Ford Taurus he had taken right outside the gas station him and Dean had stopped at not two days ago. He used his thumb to slide the small white card out of the back slot of his wallet. His dad had given him the badge number before he left for school, just in case of an emergency. "Yes, my badge ID is 327981. The phone number I'm tracing is 785-555-0179. On Breckenridge, just off centennial highway in Jericho? Great, thank you." _

_Sam put his car into drive and shot off down the road, hitting 80 just as the gas station slipped out of view. _

Officer Willis entered the room again, laying down a folder on the table before beginning to pace around the room.

"So we were talking about your brother."

"I didn't know where he was, like I said, we hadn't talked in almost three years."

"And were you aware that your brother was imitating a U.S. Marshall with a fake badge and had false credit cards on him?"

"We hadn't talked, why would I know that?"

"But you aren't surprised?

"What my brother does is his own business." Sam stared unblinkingly as the officer planted his hands on the table and leaned in, trying to break his nerve.

"Sam, I have a feeling you know something else."

"What you think isn't my business either. I'm missing an interview to get accepted into law school right now, so unless you have something to hold me here, I'd like to move this along."

"Excuse me for a minute," Officer Willis ground out, his jaw tight. He shoved away from the table and slammed the door behind him as he left.

_It didn't take Sam too long to find the house. There were only a few still left on the old road, and the Impala was parked right out front, the black metal shining under the moonlight. _

_Sam rummaged through the car, pulling out his pistol, knife, and salt rifle. As he made his way into the house, gun raised, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The house was pitch black so Sam moved slowly, getting a feel for the layout. As he felt the banister of the stairwell graze his shoulder, his boot hit something else lying across the floor. _

"_Dean?" _

"Sam? Come with me please."

Officer Willis led him through the precinct and down a set of stairs into the basement. They maneuvered silently through the winding hallway, coming to a stop at a door with 261 painted on it.

"Take as much time as you need."

He opened the door and gestured for Sam to walk through.

Sam's first reaction was to turn around and punch the officer in the face. Even though he had been expecting what was behind the door, the fact that the officer was trying to use it to get him to talk made his blood boil.

As the door closed behind him, Sam stayed near the wall and took a deep breath. There was one light on in the room. Underneath it, laying on a metal table, was Dean's body.

"_Come on, Dean," Sam knelt next to his brother. He put his hand down on the floor to for support, and brought it back up feeling sticky and damp. Sam knew with barely a whiff that it was blood. "Hey, you gotta…" _

_His voice cracked, and Sam ran a hand over his brother's forehead and then down to his neck, checking for a pulse. _

"_No, no, no." _

_The clouds shifted, and the moon shown through one of the windows in the front door, highlighting Dean's half-closed eyes. His phone was a couple inches away in a puddle of water, and Sam wondered what could have happened. Tears filled his eyes as he used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe his hand along Dean's head and neck to at least smudge the bloody prints he had left. _

_Sam picked up Dean's phone, ensuring that it was still working, and dialed 9-1-1 before setting it back down. He could hear the operator say hello and ask if anyone was there, but ignored her and looked back at his brother. A sob lodged in his throat but he silently reached his hand into Dean's pocket and pulled out the keys to the Impala, then stood and went back out on the porch. _

"I'm going to find Dad, Dean, just like you said. And we're gonna fix this. I'm sure someone knows something about how to…" Tears were in his eyes again.

Slowly, he walked closer to his brother, noticing how his eyes were now closed and the pale hue to his skin. After everything he had seen, he never had expected this. He clapped his hand over his brother's shoulder, hoping against all hope that he would awaken and yell at him. But he laid perfectly still, and slowly Sam leaned over and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

_This is a shorter chapter just to keep the story going. I have ideas in my head it's just getting them down on paper. This is also a birthday gift for SuperDoctorOnceAWolf, who has been helping talk ideas for this._ :)

_Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Sam stood away from the crowd, his hands shoved into his pockets, as the bus pulled up to the side of the station. The air buzzed with a mixture of greetings and the cars that drove past on the nearby street. Luggage began getting emptied onto the sidewalk from the compartments underneath, and finally Sam spotted his guest.

"Sam!"

Sam nodded, staying back, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his ears and his Carhartt zipped to his chin.

Jess walked towards him quickly, her suitcase rolling behind her, and stopped just a couple feet away. Smog from the bus mixed with her breath and she looked him up and down and waited. Finally, he stepped forward and put his arms around her, forcing her onto her tiptoes to hug his neck.

"Sam." The word was a breath on his ear as Jess squeezed tighter. Sam slammed his eyes shut, trying to force down the tears before they overwhelmed him.

"Let's get you out of the cold." Sam had to use every ounce of his strength to not shove her away as he straightened. He grabbed the handle of her suitcase and turned to the parking lot and the Impala. Jess followed silently behind him, running to keep up with his stride.

"Well, this is…" Jess turned her head to look around the interior of the car as the words died on her tongue. Sam had his head ducked and was intently looking at the wrinkles of his knuckles. He could feel her eyes on him. "What's going on?"

"I told you," Sam muttered.

"You said your brother died. You didn't say how or why you were out here so fast. Did he call you? Did you leave him when he was in trouble?"

"No!" Sam voice cracked in his urgency to respond. He pinched at the leather stitching around the steering wheel.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I really am." Her hand was on his shoulder but Sam still knew that he couldn't look at her. "I just don't know how to help you through this."

"You being here is enough."

She squeezed his shoulder before releasing him. Sam put the car into drive and let the purr of the engine take them across town to the motel room. He wordlessly grabbed her suitcase out of the backseat and started up the two flights of stairs, not waiting for his girlfriend to catch up. Jess settled onto the bed that had been properly put back in its place and watched Sam as he paced across the room staring at his phone.

"Who are you expecting a call from?"

"My Dad."

"He's in town, right?" Jess's eyes widened as her gut intuition began to sing her the story of what was going on.

"Not really…"

"Does he even know Dean is dead?" She wanted to jump up and halt Sam as his stride lengthened.

"I don't know…"

"Sam!" Her tone caused him to finally stop in front of her. "How could you not know?"

"I left him a message, alright? He doesn't always answer right away."

Jess looked down into her lap to hide the wrath in her eyes. Sam started up his path across the carpet again. They were silent for what seemed like ages, Sam occasionally mumbling something. His face fluxuated between red and purple depending on how often he reminded himself to breathe. Just as Jess was about to try and get him to talk again, Sam's face darkened and his fist impacted into the wall.

Jumping to her feet, Jess took two steps to him before stopping. She had only seen this sort of anger once before and she knew better than to mess with it. Sam let out a roar as he removed his hand only to launch it right back. This time his hand skimmed the full-length mirror and sent it crashing to the floor, scattering glass everywhere.

"Okay, stop," Jess said matter-of-factly. She spotted the blood now dripping from his knuckles. "Let me go get something to clean you up."

"Go to the car," Sam barked. "Don't bring anyone up here."

He tossed her the keys out of his pocket before collapsing onto the floor under the window. As Jess exited the room and started back down the stairs, she felt a couple tears slide down her cheeks. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Once outside, Jess took a minute to let the breeze cool her face and prayed to whoever was above that Sam would make it through this.

She opened the passenger door of the car, figuring there would be some sort of first aid kit there. The glove compartment flung open and Jess felt her heart start to thunder faster. Sitting under the light was two boxes and a gun. Grabbing the larger one, she flipped through what had to be twenty different cards, all with pictures of Sam and Dean, listing different names and government agencies. Jess let the container fall to the seat and scatter some of the cards as her hands shook.

Grabbing at the other, more familiar box, Jess closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening it. The diamond glittered brightly as the sunshine hit it. Jess felt her knees go weak and she fell onto the edge of the seat.

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Sam flipped the phone around in his hand as he sat, his knees up to his chest, trying to focus on taking steady breaths. Glass from the mirror surrounded him and seemed to have reached almost every part of the room.

His fingers were on the keypad before he changed his mind, dialing the number numbly. It rang through six times before emitting a loud beep.

_This is Dean. If this is an emergency, leave a message. If you're calling about 11-2-83, please page me with your coordinates._

Letting the phone slip out of his hands and thump on the floor, Sam ran a hand through his hair. He thought of all the times he had gotten a random text from Dean when he got a new phone number; and how even though he rolled his eyes, he still made sure to memorize it in case anything happened. All of the times he had gotten a postcard from Dean, which usually wasn't often, but they were places his brother wanted him to know about.

Tears prickled at Sam's eyes, but he told himself he wasn't going to break down again. He was going to find his Dad and they were going to fix this. Sam picked back up his phone, dialing his Dad again.

"I don't know if you're even getting these Dad, but I hope you call me back soon. Your son is dead, and I would hope that bothers you." His bitterness was evident, but Sam was past the point of caring. How had his Dad not showed up or at least made it clear he knew what had happened?

Jess reentered the room with the first aid box in her hand. Sam used the wall to push himself to his feet and stepped to the other side of the room where there was less glass.

"Go wash your hand," Jess ordered. Sam ducked into the bathroom and ran the tap, filling the white porcelain with pink water. As he waited for it to run clear, the door to the motel room opened.

"Sam, get down!"

Ducking on instinct, Sam crouched next to the toilet and turned to see John holding a sawed-off up to Jess and ordering her to put down the knife.


	4. Chapter 4

_Quick shoutout to rawgirl54 who helped talk me through some of my ideas and I came to a conclusion because of her so therefore I must mention her loveliness! 3_

"Dad, what…?"

"Not now, son." John cautioned, his voice deep and low as he took another step closer to Jess, who had frozen with the knife raised towards Sam. "I said, put it down."

"Make me," Jess hissed back. Sam felt his eyes bulge at the change in her voice.

Taking another step, John rammed the rifle into Jess's back. She smirked, turning to look at him over her shoulder, but not before Sam saw the black of her eyes.

"You will not harm him. Put it down."

Sam watched Jess's hand shake and start to lower, and then with a shriek she threw herself into John to unsettle him and raised the knife. John used his left hand to deliver a punch to her face and as her body fell limp he crouched down and caught her weight with his shoulder.

"Dad?!" Sam exclaimed as his father silently walked out of the doorway towards the main room. Sam scrambled after him. "What just happened? What are you doing here?"

"I got your message." John lowered Jess onto the bed and turned to look at his son. "I've been monitoring you waiting to get you alone. Thankfully I saw her get possessed and followed her up here."

"You've been MONITORING me?" Sam exploded with rage. "Dean is dead, and you've been following me around?!"

"I had to be sure that you were safe and I wasn't followed!" John's voice rose to the level Sam had last heard when he left for Stanford.

"You're a piece of work, Dad." Sam spoke quietly as he turned to observe Jess in her unconscious state. "Will she be okay?"

"We need to exorcise the demon from her."

"An exorcism? Dad, I thought those only worked in movies?"

"There's a lot I was never comfortable teaching you boys. Bobby showed me how and I've saved quite a few people with it."

"Well what do we need?"

"Nothing I can get now, we need to take her to Bobby's."

"Dad!" Sam threatened. "Dean's body is here! There is a case here! We have to figure out what happened to him. I'm not just leaving, even if it is to help Jess."

As his Dad turned to look at him, Sam realized he had never seen more anger on his face. He braced himself, ready for another fight, but Jess bolted straight up and grinned.

"A dead Winchester? It must be Christmas." Her mouth opened wide at the jaw and swirls of black smoke shot out and surrounded the two men before filtering out the crack in the window. Jess's body collapsed back onto the bed and Sam's head snapped over to look at John.

"Wake her up, see if she remembers anything." John turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Sam no choice but to crouch down as Jess once again began to wake up.

"Sam?" Her voice was hoarse as Sam put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "What happened? How did I get up here?"

"What do you remember?" Sam asked softly.

"I was looking through the car for your first aid kit, and I found…OH!" She gasped and jumped to her feet, putting distance between herself and her boyfriend. "Y-you had a gun, and fake badges, and a _ring_!"

Her body was trembling, and Sam desperately wanted to pull her into his arms. He tried to take a step forward, but she backed up further and shook her head.

"Explain," She whispered. "Now."

Sam hung his head, chin to chest, and took a deep breath. As he opened his mouth to start, John re-entered the room.

"Dad, can you give us a minute? Please?"

John's face was stoic, but his eyes lit up with anger.

"You're going to tell her? You weren't going to take the chance of saving her, but you want to tell her the family secret."

"Dad!"

"Own up to it, Sam! I'm just trying to make sure no one else gets hurt here!"

"Will someone tell me what is going on?" Jess screamed over the both of them. They silently turned to look at her and Jess caught Sam's gaze.

"I know I've always been secretive about my family," Sam began, "and it's for a good reason. My mom died when I was a baby and after my dad found out why, he took us on the road with him. So I grew up learning how to hunt monsters and ghosts."

The revelation hung in the air for what felt like hours. John turned his back to them and Sam shuffled his feet, watching Jess closely. She opened and closed her mouth a few times in silence before responding.

"Ghosts," She stated disbelievingly. "You hunt ghosts."

"Yeah, and other stuff."

"So when your brother came into town, saying Dad was on a hunting trip…"

"He was following a spirit that killed hitchhikers; the same one that ended up killing Dean. We take different cases when we aren't looking for the thing that killed our mom."

"Sam, I…"

He watched her closely, the way there were tears in the corners of her eyes and her hand was shaking vigorously. Sam heard John sniff somewhere behind him, but he stayed focused on Jess, begging for her to accept his life for what it really was. She was avoiding looking into his eyes and he kept turning his head to stay in her point of view. Finally she looked up.

"How do you expect me to believe that kind of a story?"

His heart dropped into his stomach. Sam closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at the agony in hers. John's voice spoke over his shoulder.

"The reason you can't remember what just happened to you is because you were possessed. By a demon. I think you of all people should be a believer right now."

Sam's eyes flew back open. Jess was shaking her head but he knew from their years together that the lightbulb was turning on and she had realized he wasn't a liar.

"I can't….I need a minute." Jess pushed past both of them and let the door ricochet off the wall in her haste to leave.

"Thanks," Sam muttered to his Dad who had moved to sit on the bed.

"She seems real special."

"Why were you so mad that I didn't want to go to Bobby's?"

"She reminds me of your mom," John answered slowly, "and I didn't think you should lose her that easily."

"I'm gonna go check on her," Sam's voice was very quiet in light of his father's meaningful words.

A few pieces of glass crunched under his boots as he entered the hallway and saw Jess sitting on the floor with her head in her hands. Sam crouched down in front of his girlfriend and pressed his hand against her knee.

"Do you remember," Jess started as she lowered her hands, "that night you got a call from Dean that your Dad wanted you to come home? We had just started dating and all I knew was that you were_ livid_, I mean I had never seen anyone so angry before. But for some reason, it made me want to stick around and help you and care for you."

"That was the night I dislocated your thumb," Sam reminded her remorsefully.

"No, that was the night I got my thumb dislocated because I was dumb enough to try and stop you from wailing on my new couch." Her smile was genuine and Sam couldn't help but smile back.

"My dad had actually called to tell me he had gotten close to figuring out what killed my mom, but he lost its track and Dean ended up with a broken wrist because of it. I was so mad that I had left and that this was still going on. I'm sorry you got stuck in the middle of that."

"Don't be sorry," Jess reached out and ran her hand along Sam's cheek as fresh tears sprung in her eyes. Sam brought his own hand up and laid it on hers. "Please just tell me you got the ring before all of this started."

"I got it last month, I knew the ring was perfect. Even if I wasn't sure exactly when I wanted to propose, I knew that I wanted to be with you forever."

"Oh, Sam," Jess sighed, pulling her hand away and tucking it under her chin.

"What's wrong?"

"So many things," Jess shook her head. "Your Dad is back, your brother is dead, you hunt ghosts and own armed weapons. I don't…"

"Jess, look, none of this has to…"

"This changes _everything_, Sam. I-I-I need to think about this."

"What are you saying?" Sam could feel his heart slamming into his chest.

"That you need to go find whatever killed your brother and your mom and figure out what you're doing with your life. Because clearly, you aren't planning on going to law school anytime soon."

"If this is about what my dad said, I wasn't…"

"No, it's not. I get that you need to figure out what happened and be with your family right now." By this point she had taken Sam's hands and entwined their fingers. Sam felt a tear creep down his face as he leaned in to kiss Jess.

"Do you want me to keep in touch?"

"If you're feeling the need to make a phone call then I will most definitely be your listening ear." Jess smiled and squeezed his hand. "You know that I love you."

"I think you've made it pretty clear," Sam whispered back. He helped her to her feet and couldn't resist putting his arm around her waist as they went back into the room. "Figure out the next bus home and I'll take you back to the station."

"Son, can I have a word now?" John seemed to steamroll past them and Sam shot a look at Jess before following him back outside. "What are you doing?"

"She's going back to school."

"We can protect her…"

"Dad, this isn't going to be like that!" Sam cut his father's words off quickly. "You aren't gonna train Jess to fight or drag her around and make her constantly fear for her life!"

"They know who she is, they can find her again!"

"Then I will give her the basics of protecting herself. I'm not putting someone else I love through this!"

John opened his mouth to argue back, but Sam was shocked when he gritted his teeth and gave a small nod of approval.

"What are you planning to do about Dean?" Sam felt his voice shake, trying to process why he wasn't still arguing, but pushed through.

"Don't worry," John smirked, "I've got a couple ideas."

* * *

_So obviously I took a couple little liberties. I know that the "exorcisms only work in movies" thing seems odd, but if you really look at the seasons they don't even perform one til Meg, so I thought it would make sense that John wouldn't want them performing one and would make up the little lie that they don't work. I also am not 100% sure where I am going to take Jess with this story, as of right now I don't have intentions of doing her serious harm. I think that even if she would be accepting of the lifestyle, I think she would need time to figure it out first, which is why I went with what I did. Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!_


	5. Chapter 5

**This is definitely a filler chapter. I'm still playing with some ideas about where I'm taking this, but didn't want to leave you guys hanging much longer. I really hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

_Sam chuckled to himself as he watched Jess whip open the door to the stove and was sure her eyes were darting furiously over the pan filled with pot roast and potatoes. _

"_It's….I…." Leaving the door open, she anxiously peered at the open cook book, and then back at her dinner. "I don't know if it's done!" She finally whined. _

"_Do you have a meat thermometer?" Sam asked quietly from the couch in the other room where I could observe her panic. He had been ordered not to interfere, because "she did not need help", but he still couldn't resist offering some guidance. _

"_Yes!" Jess exclaimed with exasperation, spinning on her heel to rummage through the drawers. "God, I knew that, I swear." _

"_Babe, it's okay." His words seemed to be unheard as she held her prize up and read a portion out of her book again. He thought he heard her berate herself for leaving the stove door open, but she said nothing else as he watched her stick the thermometer in the meat and stand back. "You should probably pull it out to get a proper temperature." _

_Her answer was silent as she slid on her pot holders. Sam could feel her frustration from his spot and slid to the edge of the cushion, debating if he should get up and assist. _

"_I saw that!" Jess called to him, although she didn't bother to turn around. "I don't want you to help, I want to do this myself." _

_Sam shook his head and smiled. He couldn't help but think of his older brother in all those hotel rooms, trying to be creative and make food for both of them. His technique had been telling of his age, but Dean had always delivered edible food. That was why when Sam had gotten to Stanford, he had made sure he taught himself how to cook, wanting to fully be able to stand on his own two feet, but he always kept a couple of Dean's recipes in the back of his mind. _

"_That's 20 degrees hotter than what it should be!" Jess shrieked. At this, Sam got up and crossed the barrier into the kitchen. Jess was frantically reading the cookbook as Sam gently put his hand on her shoulder. He heard her let out a small sniffle and then she turned and wedged her way under his arm. "This is a nightmare." _

"_It will be fine, it doesn't look like you burnt it so it will probably just be a little tougher to eat." He put his hand on her cheek and turned it towards him. "Knowing that you made it is all I care about." _

"_I wanted this to be perfect!" Jess moaned, burying her face into his shirt. _

"_It's just dinner, what's-" _

"_No! It isn't just dinner!" She lifted her head back up and caught his gaze. "We've been dating for 8 months now, and I wanted to show you how happy I am to have you in my life. I would have left Stanford if I hadn't met you. I was so homesick, and you gave me a new home to look forward to. I wanted to be able to show how much I love you just like my mom always did and…" _

"_Wait, what?" Sam cut her off, the words replaying in his head. _

"_My mom made dinner for my dad all the time."_

"_No, the other thing," as he said this, Sam saw the blush spread across Jess' face. _

"_I was going to tell you I loved you tonight. Because I do, Sam. I really do love you. But now it's ruined!" _

_Sam ducked his head, covering her mouth with his, and gently brushed his tongue against the edge of her lips. Jess blinked slowly as he pulled away, her eyes twinkling. _

"_I think you made it pretty clear how you feel," Sam whispered to her. "I love you too, Jess." _

A horn blared across the highway, startling Sam out of his restful state, quickly followed by the Impala's loud reply.

"Go drive somewhere else!" the deep voice hollered. "Get the hell outta my way!"

Sam sat up and felt his brother's name on the tip of his tongue, ready to tell Dean he needed to cool down, but then he had a flash of Dean's pale white face in the morgue. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath.

"Get any sleep?" John asked him.

"Not really, I mostly just zoned out. How far away are we from Bobby's?"

"Probably another hour. You want to stop for something to eat?"

"I'm fine."

The air in the car was silent again and Sam found himself playing with the silver ring he had taken from Dean's bag at the police office. He also felt the cold of the gold amulet as it shifted over his chest. It had felt right to keep the items that were close to Dean on his own person.

"That was your mom's," John announced. Sam jumped and looked over to see his dad watching him fidget with the ring. "I think it belonged to someone in her family before she got it."

"I think I remember you telling Dean that when he found it." Sam twisted it one more time around his finger. "He didn't care though, he just wanted it because it was mom's."

"That was Dean." The struggle between smiling and mourning was evident in John's voice. Sam nodded in the dark, remembering how tightly his brother held onto the mementos of their family. "I hear you had a ring for Jess."

"Yeah," Sam's voice was quiet, "we just never got to the right moment."

John seemed to sense that there was no good response to this. The rest of their ride was silent, leaving Sam feeling more alone than he had in a long time.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Sam!"

It unsettled Sam a bit to see Bobby looking shocked to see him. Surely, his Dad hadn't just decided to show up with no warning.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam smiled as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Wh-"

"Bobby, hey," John, who had been grabbing something out of the Impala, stepped up next to his son.

"John." It was hard to miss the tinge of ice in the older man's voice. "Didn't realize you were stopping by."

"You didn't tell him?" Sam turned to stare incredulously at his father.

"I was getting there," John shifted the bag in his hand and let himself into the house. Bobby raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged and tried to imply an apology with his eyes.

"Come on in, boy," Bobby muttered, waving his hand.

As they made their way through the hall into the study, Sam saw that John had already started pulling books off the shelf and was making himself at home.

"You stop by for something specific? It's pretty late."

Sam's eyes widened at the tension in the air, but John seemed unfazed by his friend's words.

"Bobby, you know why we're here, right?" Sam's voice shook with hesitation.

"I got an inkling," Bobby responded, sending a dark glare in the direction of John's back. "Although you aren't gonna find much about bringing people back from the dead in those books."

Sam's chest began to heave as he looked between his two parental figures. Sure, he had thought about how they could bring Dean back, but he had never truly thought it would be possible. After all those years of putting ghosts to rest long after their time had passed, he couldn't imagine what consequences would come from putting life back into his brother.

"What are you gonna do, Dad?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" Sam sniffed as he settled onto his bed, his fingers gripped tightly around his phone, the other hand cupping the neck of a fifth of whiskey.

"Yeah, I was just letting you know I got back in one piece." Jess answered quietly. "How is everything going?"

Something crashed in the foyer below him, and Sam let out a deep sigh and took a swig.

"I'm not really sure, Dad and my Uncle Bobby have been arguing for the last half hour.

"Uncle? Your dad-"

"No, just a friend of the family, he hunts too, has been…" Sam took a breath, ready to launch into a story, but stopped himself. "You probably don't want to hear all about this."

"If you want to talk, I can listen."

Sam tried to smile, so familiar with Jess always willing to give her time, even if it was something she despised or didn't understand. It had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place.

"Sam!" His dad's bellow easily reached the bedroom.

"I gotta go, Jess. Make sure you salt every single door and window, and keep that bottle of holy water on the table."

"I will. Be safe, Sam."

Sam nodded, unable to make his voice carry all the emotions he wanted to express, and hit the red button on his phone. Another sip, the alcohol burning down his throat, and then Sam got to his feet to go back downstairs.

"John, don't tell me-"

"This conversation is over, Bobby."

"Horse shit! You just don't want to be wrong!"

Sam hesitated on the last couple steps, debating if he really wanted to get in the middle of this. He had heard brief snippets of their spat, John mentioning a crossroads demon and Bobby yelling about a séance. It wasn't brand new information from his hunter upbringing, but Sam still wanted to proceed with more caution than either man seemed to have.

"We're leaving, Sam!" John marched across the room, clearly having not missed his son's entrance.

"We just got here," Sam retaliated. "Where are we going to go?"

"Stop asking questions and get in the damn car!"

"No, Dad!" Sam used the momentum of the bannister to swing himself around into the room before planting his feet and crossing his arms. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"What's-" John faltered, shaking his head as anger danced across his face. "Your brother is dead!"

"Yes, and all we have done is let a demon in on that piece of information and run away from all of our evidence so you can have a pissing match with Bobby!"

"Back to your corner, boys." Bobby had lowered his tone but still managed to cut some of the tension. "Sam, what did you say about the demon?"

"It possessed my girlfriend, and when Dad was saying that Dean was dead, it smoked out of her all excited."

"Well, that sounds bad," Bobby muttered.

"You think, Robert?" John snapped.

"I believe I was talking to Sam, since you couldn't muster up the smarts to tell me."

Sam gulped, never having seen this interaction with his two father-figures. Sure, they had never agreed on everything, but this was past the point of disagreement.

"Is something going on?" Sam asked nervously.

"No!" Both men yelled back.

For a few moments, only the sound of heavy breathing was audible in the Singer household. All three men stared at each other, letting the silence absorb all their thoughts and secrets.

"Sam, let's go," John finally uttered, his voice impossibly lower than usual.

"I want to stay here," Sam growled back.

"John, we need to address this demon issue. It doesn't bode well that they're this excited about a simple hunter's death."

With a roll of his eyes and a large sigh, John threw down his duffel bag and stormed into the kitchen.

"What was that about, Bobby?"

"Your daddy's got a stubborn side to him." Bobby turned, stepping behind his desk and peering at one of the open books. "You up to helping me with this?"

"With what?"

"Summoning a demon, see if we can't get some answers about this mess."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Son of a bitch!"

"Name callin' ain't gonna help ya here, bucko." Bobby smirked, taking a couple steps around the devil's trap painted along the floor.

"I'm not telling you _anything_." His teeth flashed a mixture of white and red.

Flicking his wrist, Bobby splashed some holy water onto the demon who cried out and crumpled in the chair. Sam stood rooted to his spot just off to the side, his heart pounding around in his chest.

"Just tell me who you work for," John hissed, twirling a knife around in his hand. "That's all we wanna know."

The only response was the demon flexing his hand underneath the ropes. John leaned forward, locking his gaze on the young man. Sam blanched, his stomach twisting into a knot at the similarity of John to his oldest son. In a flash, the knife was gouged through the demon's hand who quickly started laughing.

"You'll never get it out of me."

"Shouldn't we…" Sam could feel his nerves working through his body.

"Sam, leave, now!" John hollered back. He didn't turn back around, instead silently signaling Bobby who dumped more holy water over the man's head. Sam quietly sidestepped the group and went into the kitchen to open the fridge and pull out a beer.

It was difficult to determine how Sam felt. He had only seen a handful of his dad's interrogations, usually sent out for supplies or with Dean to interview someone. Sam felt his insides squirm again, thinking of the couple cases he and Dean had worked by themselves before leaving for Stanford. Watching John now was just like Dean was still here. And what were they going to do if the demon decided it didn't want to talk?

Sam knew something had to be going on; it was a feeling deep in his gut. What were the chances that a demon had followed him around Jericho and possessed Jess on a whim? It still unnerved him, the grin that had come over Jess's face hearing that Dean was dead.

Peering into the other room where things didn't seem to have progressed, Sam wondered something. Did this have to do with their Mom? Was that what John though?

Letting out a deep sigh, Sam sat at the table and pushed aside the book that was laid open. As he turned to take a sip of his beer, a paragraph and picture caught his eye. Leaning forward, he read with rapt attention, trying to push down the exhaustion that was threatening to break him. His mind whirled, processing the information quickly. It was a chance for him to take charge, to stop John and Bobby from fighting, to maybe do something other than be a bystander.

He was on his feet, the beer struggling to stay upright at the edge of the table, and tore the paper out of the book with a snap of his wrist. One to summon a different kind of demon. One that talked about how to make a deal at a crossroad.


	7. Chapter 7

**I am so sorry that it took almost 5 months for me to get this chapter out. Please enjoy, and I am going to try to keep at this more.**

* * *

Wind howled across the gravel road, throwing sand into Sam's face. He squinted his eyes to read the paper flapping in his hand. Double checking that everything was in the old cigar box, he crouched down and placed it in the foot-deep hole. As he shifted the pile of dirt back over the top, another gust of wind blew the bright yellow flowers in his peripheral.

Sam waited, rubbing his dirty hands across his jeans. He looked at the book page. Had he missed one of the elements? Sam's eyes roamed over the two streets, traffic blocked by the cracked "road closed" sign. Maybe it wasn't a true crossroad.

It was hard to tell how long he really waited. Sam could feel his hope deflate with every passing moment. No one was coming; there weren't any answers to help stop Bobby and John from fighting, or to bring Dean back from the dead.

"Sammy?"

Sam's blood ran cold.

"I wasn't sure what to expect when I got word about this. I thought they were kidding."

"H-h-how are you…" Fearing that his knees were going to buckle, Sam stepped back to lean against the hood of the Impala.

"Come on, Sammy. You're a Stanford student, you should know this."

Finally taking a step out from the shadow of the trees, Dean smirked as he eyed his brother. He was dressed well, dark grey suit with a black tie. Sam noted the almost flawless look of his skin, no bruises or cuts from his years of hunting or untimely death.

"You give up?" Dean taunted, his smile growing.

"You're a crossroads demon," Sam stuttered, his throat closing around the words.

"Well, partially." Dean grinned, bright white teeth shining in the dark, and then he blinked and his eyes flashed black.

"No," Sam gulped, shaking his head and praying he was dreaming. "I don't understand."

"Soul gets sent to hell, twisted by all the other bastards down there, and voila," Dean posed, his arms held out, "your brother is a demon."

"Dean, why are you here if you aren't a crossroads demon?"

"Got sent up; they told me I should answer your summons and talk to you."

Dean meandered across the road, almost floating over the gravel. Sam shivered as he came closer to inspect the car. Tears flecked over Sam's eyes, watching the nonchalant look on his brother's face in the presence of his Baby.

"You gonna cry on me, Sammy?" Dean's teeth were impossibly white in the dark.

"It's Sam." His whisper was barely audible as he shifted against the car, trying to pretend he hadn't flinched. Getting to his feet, Sam decided to go unbury the wooden box.

"Won't work, Sammy-Boy. I'm not a crossroads demon, so you can't just banish me back." He was standing right behind Sam now. "You don't wanna talk to your favorite brother?"

"You're not my brother," Sam hissed, turning around. "What would we even talk about? You're dead. You're a demon now!"

"Letting your emotions get the best of you there, Sam." Dean smirked. "You'd be surprised at all the things we have to talk about."

Sam opened his mouth to answer but felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He dug his cell out and turned his back on Dean.

"Dad, I-"

"What are you doing?!" John roared. "Get back here now."

"I'm busy!" Sam exclaimed.

"Do not do this. It is reckless and stupid."

"It's already done, Dad. I have to go."

Incoherent yelling exploded from the speaker as Sam ended the call. He heard Dean chuckle.

"Little rebel Sammy."

"Shut up. Are you gonna tell me whatever you wanted to or not?"

Dean ran his hand over the top of the car, smiling to himself like he had a secret. Sam took a couple steps back, putting distance between his brother's form.

"Oh, believe me, you're going to want to hear this. Hell is…" Dean froze midstride. He looked down before flashing black eyes at Sam. "What did you do?"

"What I had to," Sam retorted. "Now get out of my brother's body or I'll banish you back myself."

A flurry of emotions passed over Dean's face. He tried once again to move, but couldn't get past the white outline of chalk hidden beneath the tire.

"How did you know?" Dean ground his teeth around the words.

"Well, first, my brother would never wear that monkey suit willingly, demon or not. And second, research says that it takes hundreds of years for a human soul to get twisted into a demon. Dean only died a week ago."

"You're smarter than you look, Sammy."

Sam pulled a small flask out of his jacket and flicked the contents at Dean, causing him to step back and hiss.

"Stop calling me Sammy." Sam encircled the car and devil's trap as Dean regained his composure. "Now tell me how to get my brother back."

"He's dead! There's no possible way to put a soul back." Dean recoiled as he was hit with holy water again.

"Demons have been around for thousands of years. There has to be someone who…"

"Rescued a soul from hell? No way. Besides, we like your brother exactly where he is."

Sam's stomach churned, causing Dean to grin. He tried to push the shock aside, going to his duffel bag to pull out a rope soaked in salt and a knife. Although he had never interrogated a demon, he had seen it enough to know how to start.

"Why do you care so much about Dean being in hell?" Sam tried to keep his voice even.

"It's all part of the master plan."

Tires spinning fast over the gravel caught both man and demon's attention. An old blue mustang came roaring down the road, sliding to a stop a few feet from the Impala. John jumped out of the passenger side.

"Get in the car, Sam." As John started to stride over, he turned and saw who was standing next to the black car. "Dean?"

"Hey, Dad," Dean taunted.

"I have this under control, Dad. Leave. Now." Sam stood tall as he walked closer to his father.

"John," Bobby called out from the driver's side, "let's go."

"You aren't ready for this," John huffed, still shooting glances over at Dean.

"Not ready? I've been training for this my entire life, Dad!" Rage flared in Sam's chest. "Stop bossing me around and let me do this!"

"No!" John screamed. "Get in the car!"

Sam stood toe to toe with John, puffing his chest as he towered over him. John grabbed his son's jacket, trying to pull him away. Sam shoved against him and as they lost balance he tripped and fell back into the gravel. As he went to stand up, he saw the white chalk even with his shoulder.

"Now, guys, this is no time to pick a fight." Dean was right at Sam's head, his black eyes sparkling. He grinned and stepped down on Sam's wrist.

Dean bared all his weight down, causing Sam to scream as his arm popped. John swung his arm back, lunging at Dean. Dean calmly took a step outside of the circle and disappeared. John collided with the car, smacking it in anger. Sam tried to hold his head up, looking between John and Bobby who was now running over to them, his entire arm on fire.

They were now officially screwed.


End file.
